Teaching Qualities
by Mi
Summary: Latest issue of Snape-McGonagall bickering! Neville Longbottom is rewardingly caught between exploding cauldrons and everybody's favourite rivalling teachers trying to Make A Point. Complete.


Author Notes:

This is my record-breaking fic so far - I wrote it in two days. It also belongs to my Snape-McGonagall series. My beta-reader (the oh so faithful yap) says that's obvious - but I'm the author! :-) (And i cn ploody wall say whaddever i lyke. And not corract the spalling.)

Oh well, I had so much fun writing this - I've totally lost control over Miself.

Scared already? - Confront your fears. Have Fun!

Neither Severus Snape nor the rest of this wonderful personae belong to me. They are J.K. Rowling's!

****

Teaching Qualities

"Severus Snape! What have you done to that poor boy again?"

Minerva McGonagall rushed through the door of the Hogwarts staff room. As always, her appearance was very - tidy, but her voice didn't quite match that picture. It had a rather disturbing frequency. 

"I admit he's not the brightest student, but - FOR GOD'S SAKE, Severus - you are frightening the boy to death! What did Longbottom do to deserve such a treatment?"

"He's stupid." Snape met her glare - smirking. 

She tilted her head like she would lecture one of her students, which she knew would make him mad. "He's just a kid, Severus."

"A _stupid_ kid. _Minerva_." He shot up from his seat, cursing her silently for knowing how to wind him up. "And don't yell at me, woman! It hurts my ears."

"It bloody well should."

Snape noticed that all the other conversations had stopped. Smiles had begun to appear on his colleagues' faces, which irritated him to no end. He snorted and shoved McGonagall unceremoniously out of the room - for more _privacy_. 

"What is the meaning of this? Are you trying to get me sacked for attempted murder - or are you just going crazy over too much catnip?" 

McGonagall stood up to his challenge, well aware that she had his full attention by now. "You can't treat your students like that." He waved his hands dismissively. "I'm serious," she snapped. "They won't learn anything if they're afraid of their teacher."

"Have you ever noticed - of course you haven't because Gryffindors don't care for statistics - that the average potions student - that is, the student in _my_ class - gets the better marks? And not only the ones from Slytherin. And since when do _you_ have educational concerns about displays of authority or putting students under pressure?"

"Since Longbottom stopped learning _anything_. And that's your fault. I know the students are important to you. At least that's what you say, and Gryffindors do take people by their word. So how can you be a positive example for your students if you get one of them to blow his cauldron to smithereens in every single potions class?"

Snape took a deep - _deep_ - breath and tried to stay calm, which, Minerva thought, was the most dangerous kind of Snape Behaviour possible. 

"I've been teaching at this school for fourteen years now and all of a sudden you - what? - try teaching _me_ how to teach?"

"Someone finally has to do it. There're really bad times ahead of us - "

"THAT'S AS MAYBE - but it has nothing to do with Longbottom. Oh, fine, Minerva. Go criticise everyone for everything and blame it all on Voldemort - put some salt in my wounds!" He waved his hands in exasparation. "Longbottom can't be teached! I'm a good teacher."

The staff room door creaked and Madam Hooch perked her head out. "Is everything all right, Minerva - Severus?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "YES! Would you excuse us?"

Madam Hooch looked at McGonagall who gave her a craftily reassuring smile. As soon as the door closed McGonagall turned to Snape again. "Prove it to me."

"What?"

"Teach Longbottom how to make potions. That's what you should be doing anyway."

There was a long pause in which McGonagall had time to wonder if she'd gone too far - again. It was so easy to push Snape over the edge. She really shouldn't make a sport out of it.

"Very well then," he interrupted her thoughts. "We'll see."

***

"Longbottom! Potter! Stay behind." 

The two boys turned their heads in surprise. They hadn't brewed a potion today, so Neville hadn't had a chance to blow something up. And Harry had only lost five points - so far this had been their lucky day. But judging by the look on Snape's face it was over now.

"Sir?"

"Pro ... fessor?"

"How many classes do you have left for today?" Snape barked at Longbottom, rubbing his temples.

"Err ... think ... four."

"Full sentences, boy!" Snape hissed. He conjured five pieces of parchment and started writing on them. 

"Mister Potter, give one note to each of the teachers of your next classes, and hand this one over to Professor McGonagall. Mister Longbottom will be occupied for the rest of the day."

"What?" Neville turned to Harry with wide shocked eyes. "Harry?"

Snape sneered. "Potter can't help you, Longbottom. Time to stand up on your own."

"Does Neville have to serve detention?" Harry asked. _Of course_ that blasted Potter boy would try to help. 

"Don't ask questions, Potter! People might actually think you are using your brain. And - no. It's _not_ a detention. Go! Do as I say."

"But - " 

"Five points from Gryffindor for ... arguing!" 

Harry gave up. It hurt him to see Neville's horrified expression, but Snape was right - he couldn't help him. At least not with annoying his teacher any further. But maybe McGonagall would help.

When Harry had left the classroom Snape jovially leaned back in his seat. He looked at his watch and then slowly fixed his eyes on Neville who couldn't help twitching. "It's ten o' clock, Mister Longbottom. We have at least twelve hours - perhaps more, depending on how much sleep you need - to teach you the subtle art - oh well, potion making. That should be enough - counting the fact that you have regularly, if ineffectively attended this class for four years by now - for a crash course in basic brewing and mixing, don't you think. And with no other students around to interfere with your concentration, this will be a rather ... _intense_ experience. For both of us."

Under usual circumstances Neville would have fainted right away but Snape was already out of his seat and around his desk before his knees could give in. Snape held him upright by his collar and emphasized each single word. "I expect you to pay attention for once, Longbottom. I expect results. Now get yourself a cauldron so we can start the _learning_."

***

Six hours later a large crowd of students had gathered in front of the dungeon - all waiting for either Snape or Neville to be taken to the hospital wing. 

"Harry!" Ron catched his breath from running. "Any news? Did something happen? Is he - you know - still alive?"

"I think so," Harry almost whispered. "I heard screams."

Ron swallowed. "Don't worry, Ron. They were mostly Snape's."

"I don't know if that is calming me down."

Harry nodded. He couldn't even start to imagine what Snape was doing in there.

"Report, Mister Potter!"

"Professor McGonagall!" She would hopefully put an end to this.

"What's going on in there? Any explosions yet?" She sounded as worried as Ron did and Harry felt like a spy.

"Not in the last two - " 

They ducked as something hit the dungeon's door from the inside with a big splash.

"One." Harry stated

"Okay, I have had quite enough of this." McGonagall scanned the mass of students and decided to display some authority. "Ladies and gentlemen. This is not a Quidditch game. All students go back to whatever businesses they have immediately. And Mister Malfoy - five points from Slytherin for ... doing that!"

McGonagall waited until all children had cleared out and then knocked vigorously on Snape's door. This man was impossible! How on earth could he come up with such a horrid idea? Of course, the plan in itself wasn't so bad - except for the small detail of _Snape_ carrying it out.

She had to knock three times before he unlocked the door. "WHAT?"

"Good Lord, Severus. You look - horrible." His face was black with soot and his robe had several still smouldering holes in it. And his hair was - fluffy! She hesitated for a second and resisted some strange urge to ruffle through it. Such an opportunity would probably never come again. She felt slightly disturbed by this thought and shook it off quickly.

"What do you want, Minerva?"

"I want my student back."

"I'm not yet finished with him."

"But it looks like he's finished with you."

He tried to slam the door into her face but she stopped it with one quick foot. "Stop this at once. It's way past lunchtime. You are starving the poor boy!"

"Starving? Are you mad?"

"Longbottom will never recover from this _abuse_."

"Abu - I'm not going to repeat your stupid accusations any longer. I did send the elves for some food. And now - if you will excuse me - I have to check on the chains around Longbottom's neck." He finally managed to shut the door. 

She shook her head. However enjoyable her constant Snape-teasing was, she really shouldn't carry it out on the backs of her students. 

Another damp explosion was heard, followed by the nerve-shattering sound of dozens of glasses breaking on the floor. She shut her eyes and waited for something to follow that would make it necessary to storm into the classroom. But surprisingly the only thing she heard was Snape calling "REPARO!" Perhaps he _would_ get some results after all - although she really doubted it. She summoned herself a chair and settled down for a long afternoon of waiting. 

***

"REPARO!" Snape shouted for the umpteenth time, staring at the multiple reflections of his face while the broken flasks put themselves together again. McGonagall was right. He looked horrible and this wasn't getting anywhere. It only seemed to make Longbottom more stupid than he was before. But he couldn't give up now. Perhaps he should try to _talk_ to Longbottom for once, to get him interested in the subject. Even if this meant _smalltalking_ the boy first. Of course he did this with every Slytherin student on a regular basis, but he just wasn't interested in Longbottom at all. Oh well, couldn't be helped. He ordered the boy to sit and placed himself behind his desk.

"What do want to do after school, Mister Longbottom?"

"I ... don't know." 

"What are you interested in?"

"Don't ... know."

"What do you like doing in your spare time, then?"

"I ... don't ... know?"

"Is there anything you want to achieve? Anthing?"

"I don't -"

"DON'T ... say that again! Think, boy! There has to be ... _something_."

Neville looked like he was going to cry any moment now, but he managed to speak up. "If I'm telling you, you will take it away from me."

Snape took a surprised breath. Who would have guessed that Longbottom had something like argumantative spirit in him. "No - I - won't. I'm a teacher. I'm here to ... _help_ students."

"Slytherin students."

"I wouldn't stretch this too far if I were you, Longbottom. So - WHAT IS IT?"

"I like animals." Neville blurted out.

Oh Gods! "Animals?" Snape felt like going homicidal - now.

Neville could clearly see the storm coming and so he hurried to explain. "Err ... I want to become an animagus, sir?"

Snape sat up straight. "Go on."

"But ... Professor McGonagall won't teach me until my Transfiguration grades are improving." He hunched his head between his shoulders. But ... 

"How many points?"

"Sir?"

"How many points do you need so she will teach you?" 

"Full marks in the next test. We have to transfigure a piece of brick wall into a swarm of butterflies," Neville said sadly. "I'm not as bad in Transfiguration as I am in Potions but ... "

Snape leaned forward. This woman was unbelievable. Giving _him_ the speech about teaching qualities! Well, he would give McGonagall a taste of her own medicine. "Well, Mister Longbottom. Let's see what we can do for you."

***

McGonagall sat up straight. She met Snape's tired eyes and realised that she'd dozed off. "What time is it?"

"Half past eleven. I know. You don't have to say anything. Just keep it for tomorrow. I'm going to bed."

"Where's - "

"In _his_ bed. Good night." He tried to walk past her but she held him back.

"And?"

"I told you - you can't teach him a thing." He pushed her hand from his arm. "_You_ try it if you are so eager on this subject. I'm tired."

He left her standing in the corridor and went straight to his private rooms, where she couldn't see him smiling.

***

One week later, at the end of just another seemingly uneventful schoolday, Snape strode over to McGonagall. She looked very smug. 

"Not that I want to mention it every time I see you, Severus, but Longbottom doesn't seem to make much progress with potions. Too bad your little experiment went so crudely wrong. Can I do something for you?"

"I heard Longbottom achieved full marks in your test today?" he answered. 

"Oh yes. Quite extraordinary." She smiled but noticed him looking suspiciously unsuspicious.

"So what will he be then?" Snape asked.

"What do you mean?"

He grinned conspirationally. "What animal form will he take and when will you start to train him?"

McGonagall's smile fell from her face. "How do you ... oh wait - you did _not_ ... that's against the rules!"

He shot her a slightly offended look. "I wouldn't dare, Minerva. Besides I'm a _bad_ teacher. How should _I_ teach him how to transfigure a brick wall when you can't do it?"

"You ... are ... a very ... bad man, Severus Snape."

"Yes, I am." He patted her on the shoulder and turned to go. "Oh, I think maybe he will be a duck. Have fun with your training."

***

Another week later in another potions class, Snape was writing ingredients on the board, standing with his back to the students. He hadn't spoken to Minerva again, but she obviously had started her lessons, because Longbottom looked annoyingly happy all the time - which sadly didn't save his cauldrons from exploding.

"And now the last question for today. Not that I expect any of you to actually know the answer."

He heard an indignant breathing sound behind him and sighed. "Not counting Miss Granger, of course. And - keep your hand down till you know the question, silly girl!" He turned around to face his class. 

"Who can tell me the specifica of Livandraco and Woolskin?"

One hand shot up. No surprise here. 

"Yes, Miss Gran - " Another hand followed much slower but just as determined.

"Yes, Mister ... Longbottom?" Snape narrowed his eyes on the boy. "Do you have a question?"

"Err, no, Professor." 

Various Slytherin students started giggling and some of the Gryffindors tried to hide behind the backs of their books. 

"So?"

"I ... I know the answer." Neville stammered. 

There was - silence.

Snape's eyes got as small as they could without endangering his death glare. "I'm waiting, Mister Longbottom."

Neville stood up and - began to recite. "Livandraco and Woolskin are both high-potential sleeping potion substances. Woolskin is not to be used in combination with Desanora powder while Livandraco only shows its full potential in combination with Linbara." 

There was still silence.

"That's right." Snape's voice reached the tone of impending doom - low, smooth and deadly. Neville was not moving an inch. "Sit ... down," Snape managed through clenched teeth. "That's five points for the right answer, Mister Longbottom." Neville gave him the broadest smile he'd ever seen. His eyes were sparkling. It was almost unbearable. "And I'm _taking_ two points for smiling at me like a bloody idiot!"

Snape turned his back to the class again, this time to deny them the pleasure of witnessing his inability to keep a straight face. Minerva would hear about this in no time.

the end


End file.
